


A Trick of the Light

by ks_villain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Angst, Identity Issues, Implied Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 17:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ks_villain/pseuds/ks_villain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All these little details painted a picture that he was not yet able to see in its entirety. But he had the distinct feeling that if he just continued to look hard enough, it would eventually start to make sense. Flim had never felt more like Thrawn than in this very moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trick of the Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ars_belli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ars_belli/gifts).



> Pinch hit written in less than 48 hours. Dear recipient, I hope you still enjoy your gift and manage to ignore all the little mistakes I made. This will most likely be replaced by a beta-read version in the near future. :)

Grand Admiral Thrawn had given orders not to be disturbed. 

More than two standard hours ago, he had retreated into the main starboard conference room adjoining the bridge, and no one had heard a word of him since. By now even the most dutiful among the crew members of the _Relentless_ had begun casting brief (and more or less subtle) glances at the door through which he had gone. 

Those few among the command staff who had already served under Admiral Thrawn in the past shared their experiences in muted voices. They all remembered seeing the Admiral disappear for prolonged stretches of time, often before an important battle. 

His private command room on the _Chimaera_ , a former luxury suite for officers, had been set up specifically for this purpose. In there – so rumour had it – he devised his ingenious plans to bring the Empire to yet another fantastic victory. 

What exactly he did in there was not commonly agreed upon, however. The idea that he was just looking trough intelligence data and reports of his far reaching spy net was widely supported. But in the end it was not outrageous, not “alien” enough to gain general acceptance. 

Another popular notion was that Admiral Thrawn meditated before battle. Some long-serving officers claimed that he spent hours looking at strange sculptures and paintings, unbelievable as it might sound. And that was not nearly the most outlandish among the rumours.

If anyone of them had actually been in the conference room right now, he probably would have been disappointed. For Admiral Thrawn was just sitting there, on his huge command chair, apparently deep in thought. He was studying the small screen right in front of him. 

Despite the hour, the Admiral's uniform was as immaculate as always, from the trappings of his rank to the polished leather boots. In the dim light his eyes would have immediately drawn any watcher's attention, more than they already did under normal conditions. 

Of course, nobody aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer had the slightest idea that the man sitting there in this chair was not Grand Admiral Thrawn. 

In fact, the man was no Imperial commander. No military genius. He was not even of the same species as the late Admiral. And of course, he was not pondering battle plans or strategic fleet movements either. However, he was just as busy as the real Thrawn would have been a few hours before an important battle. 

Alone in the meditative silence of the conference room, the con-artist Flim was preparing his most important performance in this whole affair yet. In a way, tomorrow _would be_ the decisive battle in this war for him. 

In less than 14 standard hours, he would meet Supreme Commander Pellaeon. Pellaeon, who – among all the sentient beings in this part of the galaxy – had known the real Thrawn best. 

Flim knew that his acting would have to be perfect. Everything depended on his performance. The slightest mistake.... just thinking about what could go wrong caused anxiety to creep up on him and made his mouth go dry. The worst case of stage fright he could remember. 

Nothing of his feelings would have been visible to a casual observer though. Thrawn's face stayed as confident as ever, the relaxed set of his shoulders did not waver in the slightest. But on the inside, Flim could not stop worrying. 

His contact lenses itched after a long day, but he resisted the urge to rub his eyes, even if no one would have seen. He checked the chronometer. It was already long past the time when Admiral Thrawn usually retreated to his quarters. Knowing that he would not be able to rest, Flim had decided to stay here and distract himself with work. 

Flim had always liked to imagine that he could read people -- just like Thrawn had the ability to “read” works of art. During the past few weeks he had studied countless hours of official footage of Pellaeon and Thrawn, to get a feel for how they had interacted. 

And there was something that bugged him, even if he could not quite point out what it was. If you spent your life deceiving others, you learned to see through other people's lies. Everyone had their secrets and everyone had their tells.

Glowing red eyes narrowed in concentration. There was something in these vids, something that was not immediately visible. It was subtle, a brief look exchanged in an elevator, a smile here, a glance there... Fingers steepled under his chin, he leaned forward in his chair. 

All these little details painted a picture that he was not yet able to see in its entirety. But he had the distinct feeling that if he just continued to look hard enough, it would eventually start to make sense. Flim had never felt more like Thrawn than in this moment. 

The recording playing right now on the screen in front of him was the key, he sensed it. He had already watched it a dozen times, but still he did not fully understand what was going on.

At first glance there was nothing special about its contents. The vid showed the roughly ten-year-old footage from a security camera on the _Chimaera_ , observation deck 04C. There was no audio data, unfortunately.

Thrawn had his back to the camera, hands folded neatly behind his back. He was looking at the panoramic view as the ship passed a nearby planet, a glowing blueish gas giant that was huge and intimidating, filling the entire width of the deck's viewport. 

At the same time, Flim found that the shifting atmospheric currents made the planet appear strangely fragile. Even from the perspective of one who had travelled the known universe back and forth for all his life, it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Thrawn did not turn around when Pellaeon joined him to report. Flim watched for the umpteenth time as the captain delivered his message, then clicked his heels together. Thrawn nodded. Nothing out of the ordinary so far. 

But then – Pellaeon was already about to leave – when suddenly he seemed to take up all his courage, took a deep breath and addressed his superior again. He stepped forward to stand next to Thrawn, who did seem a little surprised by his subordinate's action. A few words were exchanged, but they remained shoulder-to-shoulder, enjoying the view together.

Flim really wished he knew what they were talking about. He was pretty sure that he was witnessing a private moment between them. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of their faces in the light of the blue planet. The strangest part was not Pellaeon's obvious embarrassment. What intrigued him most were their parting words when the _Chimaera_ had passed the spectacular sight of the glowing planetary orb, and the two men once again turned towards each other.

Pellaeon's expression was fierce and stubborn, but he did not look away as Thrawn studied him for what must have been several seconds. Up to this moment Flim had made the experience that nobody could bear the intensity of Thrawn's eerie red eyes for so long. But Pellaeon only averted his gaze after the Admiral gave a slight nod. 

Thrawn's face was... unreadable. But after Pellaeon had left (or better: had saluted and stormed out of the camera's range of vision), the corners of his mouth twisted into a small smile. It lasted only seconds, but it caused Flim's heart to lurch in his chest as he finally understood. 

Not that he had never seen Thrawn smile. It was just that he had never seen him smile quite like that. There was something visible in that brief and unguarded moment, something that nobody else would have seen, nobody but Flim. 

This was the smile of a man who could never allow his true self to show through his carefully calculated persona. A man who was so used to pretending to be someone that he had almost forgotten who he was. 

For that brief moment on the recording – Flim was absurdly sure of it – Thrawn had been happy. 

The con-artist shook his head, trying to remind himself of his task at hand. What did this scene tell him about the relationship between Thrawn and Pellaeon? 

Once again, Flim resisted the urge to rub his eyes. He was unbelievably tired. Things had been getting really stressful lately, and the effort of keeping up appearances was starting to take its toll. Everything depended on his decisions. He was not allowed to make any mistakes. 

Was this how the real Thrawn had felt? So weary and exhausted, down to the bone? 

Flim closed his eyes, just for a moment. 

He was asleep before he had taken two deep breaths. 

 

***

At the same time aboard the _Chimaera_ , Supreme Commander Pellaeon sat on the edge of his bed, still fully dressed in his uniform. He had undone the tight fabric around his throat, but that was his only concession to personal comfort. 

He knew that he would not find any sleep tonight. His mind was in turmoil, occupied by thoughts of events that were long past and things that might happen tomorrow, when he would finally meet … he still could not bring himself to call that person “Thrawn”, not even in his thoughts. 

But what if it was really him?

That was the single most terrifying thought he had ever had. And at the same time it was also the most joyful, if he allowed himself to believe. 

Ever since he had heard the first rumours of this “Thrawn” and his supposed return, Pellaeon had fought against the treacherous hope that tried to rise up within him. And up to this night he thought he had been successful. But now, so shortly before they would meet face to face, he could not stop thinking: what if it was really him? 

In a gesture of helplessness, Pellaeon shook his head. _It could not be him._ Too agitated to sleep, he finally got up and walked up and down in his quarters. He caught his own reflection in the observation window. 

The stars outside were drawn into long streaks of light. In front of them stood an old man, with grey hair, deep lines in his face and far too many badges of service on his chest. Part of him took a certain pride in the fact that his back was still straight and his shoulders unbowed, but it no longer mattered to him quite as much as it had when he was younger. 

In the end, all that mattered were a man's deeds. What he had achieved in his lifetime. 

Inevitably, Pellaeon's thoughts drifted off to memories of Thrawn. They had been haunting him all day, and one of them had been particularly persistent. 

Roughly ten years ago the _Chimaera_ had been on a routine patrol through a far-off section of Imperial space. He remembered delivering a report to Admiral Thrawn on one of the ship's observation decks.

Even after so many years Pellaeon could still envision the spectacular view of the gas giant Thermia IV when he closed his eyes. He would never forget the particular beauty of its hazy atmosphere layers, tinting the whole planet with a hundred different shades of blue. But he also remembered another, even more intriguing sight. 

Like so often towards the end of a long shift, Pellaeon had caught himself staring at the Admiral’s back, at the high collar of the white uniform, the immaculate black hair and the sliver of blue skin barely visible in the dim light of the bridge. He remembered thinking that Thrawn always seemed so unapproachable, more myth than man. 

Up to this very day, Pellaeon could not say what had prompted him to speak up after he had already been dismissed. His words had not been well-considered, nor were they particularly sophisticated, just a comment on the beauty of space – he already struggled to recall the exact words. But when Thrawn had turned towards him, he had looked as if the words had been important _to him_. 

Maybe it had been a trick of the light, but Thrawn had looked almost human to Pellaeon in this moment. A strange choice of words, for there was no denying his obvious alienness at any time or in any light, but from that moment onwards his perception of the man had changed somehow. 

All of a sudden there had been a vague sense of connectedness between them. They had talked a bit, about rather mundane matters if he recalled correctly. Thrawn had asked about his home planet, and he had told him about Corellia, about the famous shipyards and her blue oceans, which are so beautiful from space. 

Out of nowhere the absurd realization had hit him like a punch – that the legendary Grand Admiral had a home planet too, somewhere out there. Pellaeon had not dared to inquire about it in turn. But for the first time he had asked himself, if Thrawn was ever lonely.

It had not been the last time he had pondered that question, but Thrawn had never given much insight into such personal matters, not even later on when they had known each other better. He never revealed much about his past either... and Pellaeon had never dared to ask whether the sight of Thermia IV had really reminded him of his far-away home planet on that day. 

After Thrawn's death, Pellaeon had often thought about their conversation on that observation deck. In a way it was more important to him than all his memories of more private moments. 

He had always been convinced that he would never learn the truth. But what if Thrawn was really alive? 

Pellaeon rubbed his face with both hands. Fighting down the hope that grew in his chest hurt almost physically. 

Silly old man, he scolded himself. Thrawn was dead. 

_He had watched him die._


End file.
